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The Angry Poem

Thu, 12/15/2016 - 21:30 -- nl2018

I'm angry

I have no idea why the fuck why, but if I did, I'd do something about it

I'm angry

If I knew why the hell I was angry I'd tell you. But I don't, so I won't, because I can't

I'm angry

Hell yes I'm angry! Now will you please stop asking me because I feel like I've already made it fucking clear

I'm angry

I'm angry dammit, and it's not just because I'm fucking queer

 

I'm angry

I'm not sure at what, or at whom, or for why

But I do know I'm angry

Isn't the first step acknowledging that there is a problem?

Now that the problem has been acknowledged, how do I figure out what it is?

Is there some type of de-angrify process that I'm not quite aware of?

How do other people go through their day to day and not feel this sense of anger that's threatening to tear me apart?

I don't know what this sense of injustice this is but I know I should feel oppressed 

And so I'm angry

 

I'm angry

I think I'm angry at myself

Angry at myself because I can't get my shit together

Angry at myself because I keep reminiscing about those days when I was depressed as shit

Or thinking about what I'm going to do in the future

Angry at myself because for some reason I can't just seem to live in the moment

Or see myself past the age of twenty two

I'm angry at myself for always trying to cop out, for being lazy, for being a damn coward, for thinking too much. For having anxiety, for being awkward, for feeling like an imposter, for being a bully, for being fake, for being an asshat of a friend, for just being a shitty person in general

I'm angry that I can't even be honest with myself about my relationship with God, honest with myself that I'm upset, honest with myself that I am fucking angry 

I'm angry damn it

And I still don't know why the hell why

 

I'm angry

And yes, because I'm black

I'm an angry not quite black woman 

I'm angry that I don't feel black, angry that I don't feel woman or that my womanness isn't justified, angry because I feel like I live in a world that's forced me to grow up too soon, angry because my African people don't claim me, angry because I'm told I'm trying to act white, angry because I get looked at weird by my own people for reading a damn book and liking math AT THE SAME DAMN TIME, angry for not feeling gay enough, angry because I feel like I'm supposed to achieve something because everyone thinks I can't, angry because the system is against me, angry that because I'm black, I gotta do twice as much, I gotta be twice as much, and still get twice as less, angry because as a queer femme people expect me to be everyone's champion, because women have been seen for centuries as the fucking caregivers of the damn world, I'm ANGRY because dammit, too much is expected from me

I'm angry

 

I'm angry for a whole list of reasons

Angry that I can't speak eloquently

Angry that I can't look a white man in the face, angry that I feel inferior to white girls, angry that I'm always trying to be something less, angry that when I feel proud of myself and my accomplishments I come off as boasting or overly full of myself, angry that I am stereotyped, angry that I stereotype others, angry that I can never get any shit done because of this all-consuming anger, I'm just so angry

 

I'm angry because I don't understand my anger, angry that I haven't seen my mother in six years, angry that another year has gone by where my mother hasn't seen her damn children, angry that my sister doesn't remember what her mother looks like, angry that I feel like I can't have depression and anxiety at the same time, angry because I'm acting like the stereotypical black women, angry that I'm right back at stereotypes, angry that as I get older I realize I will always have to be fighting to support my damn identity, angry that I've got so many damn issues to fight for when I really wish I could just sit the fuck down somewhere and breathe 

I'm angry

 

I'm angry

I'm different types of angry all the time

Sometimes I feel it's caress and I embrace it

Sometimes we're like lovers, best friends, compatriots

Sometimes it is my enemy

Sometimes, I am disgusted by it, repulsed by it, by me

Sometimes it’s hidden, just beneath the surface and I don't even know it’s there, lying in wait

But sometimes I remember

That anger is neither good nor bad, but a reminder

A sign that something is wrong, not right, needs to be rectified

Whether immediately or long term, something needs to change

 

I'm angry

But behind the anger is a deep, overwhelming sadness 

Sad, because there are girls like me who grow up in a world that teaches them to hate themselves

Sad, because there are millions of children of color who can't be proud of who they are

Sad, because I've grown up to be angry at myself for what I cannot control

Sad, because this self-inflicted bigotry, this hatred of me and my identities, is something I will likely battle for the rest of my life

Sad, because just as Nora Cooper doesn't want to write an obituary, I have already written mine

A picture speaks a thousand words

What does mine say of me?

 

I'm sad

That I still haven't learned how to be happy

I'm angry

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My country
Our world

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